


Terms of Endearment

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Endearments, Established Relationship, Gags, Humor, M/M, Nicknames, Riding Crop, Silly, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-03
Updated: 2007-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boromir finds his king needs lessons in language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms of Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably stop hanging out with [](http://empy.livejournal.com/profile)[**empy**](http://empy.livejournal.com/). She's a terrible influence. This is the product of another chat with her, this time about the place of nicknames in Middle-earth, which resulted in a couple tossed-about lines that I was then compelled to run with while she snickered away. In fact, the dialogue in paragraph four is pure [](http://empy.livejournal.com/profile)[**empy**](http://empy.livejournal.com/), not altered in any way, other than to add some single quotes around the terms of endearment. Many thanks to her for feeding the bunny and pronouncing it ready to hop. ^_^

"Awww, smoochie-woochie-pumpkins, come to bed." Aragorn stroked a hand down his hip, wetting his lips in anticipation as Boromir shimmied out of his breeches, the fabric puddling around his bare feet.

Despite the erotic charge already present in the air, Boromir could _feel_ his eyes rolling up as he tamped down the urge to shudder. For the briefest of moments, he was convinced he could see the back of his skull. "I told you not to call me that." He held up a hand at the inevitable retort. "...No. Don't say it. Not even because you're King."

"What about...?"

Surely there was some ancient law forbidding the King from pouting? "Fine. If you call me 'woobiekins' and 'Snugglesteward', then I'll call you 'Kingy-king-king' and 'Aggiekins'."

Boromir was fairly certain a naked man lounging on a bed covered in sinfully-soft fur, flagrantly erect, decidedly decadent and devious wasn't supposed to greet such a suggestion with a smile.

"Look, you're supposed to hate that idea, er," he cleared his throat, "Kingy-wingy-smoochums." The name stuck in his throat and clung there, dislodged only by a sputtering cough. "Gondor's Stones, I can't do this. I'm getting a gag."

As he leaned over to rummage in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, he was certain he caught the faintest hint of a smug smirk in the corner of his eye. And surely the small breath Aragorn had released at the suggestion of a gag had given away some trifling triumph?

Right. If that was the way he wanted to play it, then play they shall. Boromir straightened up, gifting his King with a glitter of teeth. He tossed the gag on the bed, a cunning device made of bit and bridle, crafted especially for the Lord Steward by a tight-lipped stablehand. "Put this on."

The raised eyebrow and flash of trepidation was payment enough, although Boromir took special pleasure in the way Aragorn's Adam's apple bobbed as he cast the horsewhip down beside the gag. "We'll begin here."

Boromir smiled as his king picked the bit up in shaking fingers, fastening it in place a moment before rolling onto his stomach, shifting to fit his still-stiff cock comfortably under himself. Stooping slightly, Boromir retrieved the whip, the handle light, the crop pliant and supple in his hand; a glorious tease of what -- and who -- was to come. By the time he was done, he'd make sure Aragorn knew a whole host of new words, none of which he'd be able to hear without shuddering.

He wet his lips, and brought the crop down on willing flesh.


End file.
